I Want To Be Front Page News Redux
by AcknowledgedMemory
Summary: Moving to a new town is always a hard challenge. It's even harder when said town is plagued with murderous inhabitants, alien enthusiasts, and your fellow fourth graders who really don't mind giving you a hard time during your stay here. [A redux story, based on the amalgamation of various South Park episode and game plots]
1. Author's Notes

**Summary:**

Without giving too much away, the plot is going to use a mixture of South Park Episode Plots merged into one, to create a brand new story. If for some reason, I decide to drop this story, I'll leave the last chapter as the overall basis-plot so you can work out how it all ends or even come up with your own ending.

This story is a redux of a story I began on my old account back in 2014, so if you'd like to read the first version of this story, visit 'VirtualMemory' on here. This version will undoubtedly be differently driven, as multiple seasons, Phone Destroyer and The Fractured But Whole have been released since I lost access to the old account. However the main gist of the story will be the same for the time being.

 **Warnings:**

This story is rated T for it's language, but overtime it may be increased… because this is South Park based, and you know how South Park gets.

This story does revolve around the point of view of an OC, (think someone similar to Douchebag). This OC can be based on yourself if you wish, so feel free to change any discrepancies I say about the character so that it fits you better. The only reason I'm using and OC, is so you can get the view of someone who will be unbiased towards events and characters.

I guess I should also mention that I'm not from the USA, so if I get school years or anything else that's more stereotypically 'American' wrong or anything of the like, note that it's probably because I don't know how things work in the US.

 **Shameless Plug:**

If you have any questions, thoughts, ideas or opinions, feel free to leave them in the review section. It helps show that people are actually reading my story and are interested in reading it, which is a big motivator. I'm happy to receive constructive criticism, but I won't be paying any attention to flat-out hate.

 **Disclaimer:**

South Park and all it's characters are owned by Matt Stone and Trey Parker.


	2. Your Class Of Chaos

"Okay class, today we have a new student, isn't that nice Mr Hat?", came the low drawl from my new teacher for the following year or so. The old man had a glazed look in his eyes as he stared intensely into the button eyes of a ragged puppet. He was gripping on to said puppet, as if it were to run away if he were to let it go.

"That's right Mr Hat!", the teacher agreed as he whispered into the puppets cheek.

"Can- Can I sit down now?", I asked quietly, unsure on how to interact with a teacher who I wasn't entirely sure was completely sane. The teacher turned to face me with his eyebrows lowered into a quizzical glare-like feature, before rolling his eyes and responding in a tone that suggested he already didn't like me very much.

"Fine. It's Mr Garrison by the way", he monotoned before turning on the spot to face the chalkboard. "Okay children, today we're going to be talking about Tyra Banks and why it's hypocritical for her to be hosting a model tv show". Questions raced through my head when I noted what he had said was today's lesson pan, but I decided it would probably be best if I kept my mouth shut whilst I sat in the only available seat.

"Hey there good fellow", spoke a blond kid in an English accent. I was unsure whether this kid had moved into town recently like me and all the other immigrants that had found South Park a suitable place to stay or not, but either way it was relieving to not be the only foreigner in the class. "I'm Phillip", he continued as he held his hand out for me to shake. I nodded and introduced myself, instantly noting the boy's face light up when he picks up on my accent. "You have a British accent also! How jolly good! We can be friends". I raised an eyebrow at his overly dramatic English accent, but nodded along.

"Yeah sure thing-".

"Not another Pip goddammit!", snorted a rather large boy from behind me. I turned to face him, a questioning glare engraved on my face. He took in my glare with indifference.

"What… What is a Pip?", I asked, curiosity obviously getting the better of me.

"Hello", Philip waved again, "I'm Pip. That's a nickname these guys have given me". The fat boy rolled his eyes at Pip's behaviour and mumbled the word faggot under his breath. Pip clearly heard this as his smile faltered a little, but he tried to remain as unaffected by the insult as he could. Noticing that his derogatory term hadn't really affect Pip, the fat boy turned his attention to me, a look of disinterest plastered across his bulbous face.

"Well I'm not Pip", I stated, feeling a bit dumb that I had to specify this, "My name's Nathan…" By the look on the fat boy's face I could tell he really wasn't that interested in getting to know me, but if I wanted to make friends around here I guess I'd have to try harder than just telling people my name. "What's your name then mate?".

"Eric. Eric Cartman. But you don't need to know that because I don't associate myself with French People", he spat. A few girls and boys scattered around the class snickered at his remark whilst Pip turned to face the front, his face turning crimson as he uttered various curses to himself.

"I'm not French", I retorted snobbishly as I took of my burgundy beanie hat to remove the traces of snow from outside that I could feel melting on my head. When we had moved to this town, the only warning my dad had given me, was that there was usually a bit of snow on the ground, due to it being fairly high up in the mountains. I honestly hadn't expected the snow to be as extreme as it turned out to be.

Eric laughed muskily, slapping his hand off his desk violently while a few people sat around him looked at him curiously. "French AND Ginger! God must've hated you!", he cackled, spit spraying onto his desk in a desperate flee to escape his mouth. He gained a few laughs for that remark whilst some kids gave him the evilest of glares, but none eviller than one coming from a dark-haired girl dressed entirely in purples and pinks. I blushed furiously, entirely and completely mortified by the entire situation. To avoid any more embarrassment, I decided to turn towards the teacher while I forced my hat back onto my head.

"Just ignore him my good man", whispered Pip as he noticed my reddened state.

"Is he always like this?", I replied. My voice equally as quiet and hushed.

"Mr Garrison!", shouted Fatty McFattison from behind, using a sickeningly sweet tone.

"What Eric", sighed Mr Garrison tiredly, obviously deciding not to turn away from the chalkboard.

"Pip and Na… Nath…?", he paused in thought before continuing, "the new kid keep talking, an-and it's distracting me".

Again, deciding not to turn away from the board, Mr Garrison responded. "Boys, quieten down or I'll have to move the one of you". Pip made a defeated expression whilst I turned to glare at Eric. He smiled falsely to the back of the teacher's head before turning to face me.

"I thought I told you that I don't associate myself with French people. Especially not ginger French people so turn around you fucking piece of crap", he spat viciously, his eyes glistening a menacing red.

"By the looks of it, the only thing you associate yourself with, is pie you fat fuck", I spat back venomously. Eric's face contorted into a mixture of disbelief and anger as kids laughter serenaded the situation. Even Pip snickered under his breath quietly, obviously happy that someone had finally stuck up to the egotistical schmuck sat behind him.

"That was good kid", snickered a boy through his one hand, whilst he used the other to manoeuvre his green ushanka hat more comfortably on his head.

"Hey Jew! I will kick you square in the nuts!", Eric snapped, simultaneously flipping the boy off. Before I could be brought back into the argument I turned my head to face the front. Happy, that for the meanwhile I was going to be left along and could focus on some actual school work…

"…and that children, is why people class this show as shitty. Now, let's discuss the fact that several countries have even copied and made their own versions of the show, and talk about which dunderhead is to blame for airing such a terrible show worldwide.

…On second thoughts, I think I'll choose to pay attention to the argument that was quickly beginning to become a bit more heated. A boy wearing a blue and red-bobbled hat was now engrossed in the conflict which seemed to be drastically increasing in size, enveloping people into the chaos.

"Stan, would you be quiet because you're distracting me", whimpered Eric in a high-pitched whiny tone.

"Shut up Cartman!", growled the 'Jew' as he positioned himself more comfortably on his seat.

"Sticking up for your girlfriend again Kyle", joked Eric maliciously. As this was said, a blonde boy in a light blue shirt stood up from the desk to the right of mine.

"C'mon guys, we- we can all just let this go and be friends again, huh?", he questioned whilst nervously rubbing his knuckles together.

"Shut up Butters", sighed another boy who was sporting a blue chullo-hat. He lifted his head to inspect Butters before lazily retiring his head back to the top of his desk. This earned a few snickers from a brunette boy sat next to chullo-hat boy.

"Yeah Butters! Listen to Craig you dildo", he laughed to himself, causing his reddish coat to crinkle and crease. 'Butters' frowned sadly as he reluctantly sat back down in his chair.

"Don't be so rude to Butters you assmaster!", threatened a blonde girl, who had obviously noticed how upset Butters was becoming. Even though it didn't cheer him up completely, knowing that someone was defending helped Butters spirits rise a little. However, before he could thank the girl, he was cut off.

"What you going to do now Clyde? Little miss lesbian just called you assmaster", chuckled Eric menacingly as he stared directly into 'little miss lesbians' eyes, purposely trying to intimidate her. It was obvious that Eric was enjoying this argument, a little too much.

"Don't call Bebe a lesbian you fat cunt", the dark haired girl adorned in pinks and purples hissed.

"Yeah Cartman, I'm dating Bebe", Clyde acknowledged, quite confused.

"Not anymore, you're not", the blonde snapped as she crossed her arms and turned away. Instantly you could see the tears forming in Clyde's eyes, quite clearly upset at the idea of being broken up.

"Well- Well… I was voted the hottest boy in this class, so I'll easily find someone even better than you!", he spat as he turned to face the front angrily.

"Wasn't that list proven to be fake?", Craig added nonchalantly. I wasn't sure whether Craig knew that would upset Clyde more, because his statement seemed to have that affect.

"Craig!", a dark-skinned boy sighed angrily as he patted Clyde on the back sympathetically.

"Hah I knew it! I bet I was at the top of the list wasn't I Wendy!", Cartman heckled, purposely trying to wind up the dark haired girl.

"You wish fat-boy, I've saw dog turds that look better than you", she snapped back.

"Ayy! Stan control your bitch. Put her on a lead or something!", Cartman ordered as he turned to Stan. Said boy rolled his eyes and quickly told Cartman to fuck off.

"Fella's, don- don't you think this is getting a little out of hand now?", Butters interjected nervously, as he fiddled with his hands once more.

"Butters, for god sake shut your god damn hippie mouth", Cartman snapped, before turning to Wendy to call her a spoilt whore.

The arguing seemed to amplify, totally unnoticed by Mr Garrison who was currently drawing some crude drawings onto his chalk board.

"Am I in Hell?", I whispered to myself exasperatedly, as the other children continued to argue amongst themselves. I half expected a camera crew to burst into the classroom, telling me that this was all a hoax and that no school could be this crazy. They'd congratulate me on working out that no, teachers don't really do lessons on shitty reality television shows, and no, kids aren't allowed to shout 'Shut up, you big black asshole' at the top of their voices without being noticed by their teacher. The crew would then throw some celebration or something, like a party and then I'd be able to go to an actual school and learn something useful… Now that…

"That would be awesome…", I sighed to myself, obviously letting my imagination run away me.

"W-What would be awesome?", Butters asked as he looked at me curiously. Instantly I felt myself blush at being caught talking out loud to myself.

"Oh- Err- Nothing. Sorry… Was just thinking to myself", I mumbled, as I moved uneasily on my seat.

"Heh heh", the blond boy chuckled, clearly finding my nervous disposition funny. I was about to scowl at him until he continued talking. "So you're the new kid huh?", he asked, with a tone very contrasting compared to the behemoth argument that was still occurring around us. How the teacher had still not noticed this monster of an argument by now was beyond me.

"Err… yeah. My mom, my dad and me moved into one of the small brown houses about five minutes away", I replied grinning.

"Don't ya' have any brothers or sisters?", he asked with what seemed to be genuine curiousity. Maybe 'Butters' wasn't as bad a person compared to some of the other people in this class. Realising I still hadn't answered him, I hurried myself to think of an answer.

"Erm. No, what about you?".

"Nah", he sighed with a sad expression. I twiddled my thumbs waiting for him to continue. "What's your name then fella?", he asked.

"Nathan", I answered smiling. I was actually beginning to make my first new friend in this quaint little mountain town. Pip probably would've been my first proper friend here if fatso hadn't poked his nose where it wasn't wanted. I'll just have to get to know Pip at break time or something.

"What's your name then anyways?", I questioned in return, "Or is Butters your actual name?".

"Nah, my n-name is Leopold Stotch", he replied while messing with his hands once more. "People call me Butters because it sounds like Buttersco-".

"I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU KYLE YOU JEW PIECE OF CRAP!". With that, me and Butters twisted on our seats to face Eric, matching shocked expressions on both of our faces… On everyone's faces… On Mr Garrison's face…


	3. Swearing Is Bad M'kay

"Sweraing is bad. M'kay? You should never swear children because it's very bad. M'kay?". After Eric's little rant in which he shouted 'Fucking Jew' at the top of his lungs, Mr Garrison had decided to bring in the school councillor Mr Mackey. He had been speaking AT us for the past half hour. Pratically 30 minutes about the obscenities of using swear words and how it's very bad to swear. A whole 30 minutes he had been talking about the same topic and much like everyone else, I had heard just about enough. Sighing with added emphasis I retreated my head into my hands and wished for Mr mackey's tedious low-toned voice to stop.

"Eric, can I ask why you swore now? M'kay?", he pried. Eric sighed audibly before cutting his eyes at Kyle.

"Kyle called me a fat ass", he hissed.

"Kyle called me a fat ass", Kyle mimicked, purposely trying to irritate Eric further than what he already was. Stan seemed to find this immature and instead decided to roll his eyes.

"Fuck you Jew!", Eric spat back.

Of course, using 'fuck' following the half-hour hate campaign on swearing that we just had to endure was probably not a good idea.

"Eric!", gasped Mr Garrison, who was currently sat upright at his desk, the folds in his forehead fully emphasising the anger he was feeling.

"What!?", Eric spat, totally oblivious to what he had said.

"You just said fuck, you fucking moron", I sighed tiredly, completely fed up of hearing about the consequences of using swear wor- Did I just say that out loud?

"Nathan?", Mr Mackey questioned accusingly, obviously surprised to believe that I had just swore out loud on my first day at school. Shit. I was such a fucktard sometimes.

"Yes?", I replied. Both acting dumbly as if I hadn't said anything wrong, whilst also cringing to myself. Before Mr Mackey could reply, Mr Garrison had shot up and was out of his seat.

"That's it! Something needs to be done about these hooligans!". He stampeded towards Mr Mackey, stopping himself from colliding into him right at the last moment. "These brats need to be taught that swearing is wrong from someone more competent", Mr Garrison continued, making sure to addd extra emphasis to the word 'competent', so that Mr Mackey would be fully aware that he was being insulted right to his face. Ironically the insult washed over him like water off a duck's back. Mr Mackey had been called a lot worse in his life time, so being called out for being incompetent hardly offended him. Clearly deciding to ignore the insult, he smiled towards the teacher in front of him.

"Well what do you suggest...? M'kay", Mr Mackey asked, in a very timid manner. Mr Garrison seemed to pause in thought, his face showing nothing but utter-concentration. After a couple minutes he sprang into action. Grabbing a piece of chalk, he began to write his plan on the blackboard in a rushed manner. Mr Mackey was simply mesmerised by the speed of his colleagues writing, much like most of the class who had probably not really paid him any attention during their school lives. Within the seconds the frantic writings of Mr Garrison had stopped. He stepped back in admiration, proudly marvelling at his masterpiece.

"What is it?", came Craig's curious nasally voice from behind. Mr Garrison span comically on the sport, fully parading the fact that he was proud of his master plan.

"Children…", he almost sang, "How would you like to go to Stark Forest Appreciation Scout-Camp this weekend?". He was met with a wave of mumbles and cries of protest, but instead of reacting negatively, he just laughed loudly, his cackle riptiding through the air.

"You take charge, I need to print of the letters for the kids to give their parents", he giggled to Mr Mackey as he rushed out of the classroom. Within seconds Mr Mackey was rushing after Mr Garrison, shouting frantically about teachers not being allowed to leave their students. Almost instantaneously after his departure, I could feel the accusing glares of about fifteen different fourth graders. If looks could kill people, then I would've probably been reduced to a pile of mush and goo. Even Pip of all people looked a little annoyed with me. Drowning in the hatred that was now manifesting around me I slumped back in my chair, face glowing crimson.

"I'mma kick that kid's ass", Eric whispered behind me in a cruel and vile manner.

"Shut up Cartman", Stan spat back, his face contorted in anger. Kyle then leaned over, his face practically identical to Stan's.

"Yeah Cartman. This is just as much your fault as it is his". I mentally reminded myself to thank Stan and Kyle later for defending me.

"Yeah, we're probably going to kick both your asses". Scratch that, the only thing I'm going to remind myself is to run for my life when the bell rings for recess.

"Don't threaten me you Jew", Cartman spat back nervously, obviously worried in case they decided to kick his ass as well as mine.

"Hey!", came Craig's irritated voice. "Good going new kid".

Oh.

He was talking to me.

How did I wake up this morning, correctly knowing that today was going to be a real shit day?

I reluctantly turned to face him, my face still an illuminous shade of red.

"I- I'm sorry", I mumbled. I sheepishly turned my head so that I could address the whole class, most of which were either glaring at me or glaring at Eric. "I'm sorry everyone. I- I was just fed up an- and- and I wasn't thinki-".

"It's okay fella", Butters shyly interrupted with a tone that made it sound more like a question instead of a declarative. Butters was most likely, not happy about possibly being sent to some appreciation camp, however he was more than likely just trying to make me feel better for getting the whole class sent to some camp during the weekend.

"No. No it's not okay fella", Clyde mimicked vindictively, simultaneously insulting Butters and dampening my spirits further. So much for Butters trying to make me feel better. I'd have to remember to thank Butters for trying though. It was more than what anyone else was doing.

"Because of you and fat ass we have to go to some killer infested woods for some stupid lessons about not swearing", Stan complained as he dejectedly lay his head on his desk. The surrounding 4th graders all groaned in unison. By now I was sure that my face was probably the shade of a tomato, as I seriously couldn't think of a way I could ever feel more embar- Wait. What? What did he say?

"Killer!?".

"Yeah. It's been all over the news. Mangled bodies found scattered all over the place. Loads of missing limbs and stuff…", Kyle stated, his face quite clearly fuming from anger.

"What!?", I almost yelled, the terror on my face obviously seeming comical to Eric who was now laughing under his breath.

"There's a murderer around the forest dick hole. What's so hard to understand about that?", Stan hissed as he lifted his head from the desk almost violently, to glare at me.

"I'd be more worried about that alien beast that lives in the forest if I was you", interjected the dark-skinned boy from before who I'd since learnt was named Token. Murderers? Alien beasts? What on Earth is wrong with this town?

"No the murderer is obviously more scary", stated Craig as he manoeuvred himself to find a comfier position in his chair. As Craig finished speaking, the bell went for recess, everyone getting up from their seats except for Eric who sat there twiddling his thumbs.

"Craig. Alien beasts are terrifying. They're from a different planet for peaks sake", Eric argued falsely, obviously trying to get everyone in the class to forget about how they were going to kick his, (and my), ass. However, I had a theory that him trying to maintain the change of topic was more for his benefit rather than mine. In no less than 5 seconds the class was back inn arms, arguing with each other over which was scarier. A murder or an alien beast. I thought that a murderer was way scarier than an alien beast, mainly because aliens don't exist. AND, even if they did exist, what would they be doing in a town like South Park? Either way, I didn't mind, this little debate had provided me with enough time to escape the classroom before anyone else. All I had to now was survive until home time and I would be safe.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Kicking my shows off, I sighed heavily and threw my school bag towards the bottom of the stairs. However, due to the fact that one of my eyes was now swollen and purple following the beatings I received from the kids in my year, my bag actually missed the stairs completely, spilling its contents all over the floor. I growled to myself in annoyance, crouched down and began shovelling stationary back into my school bag.

"Dinner's on the table son", sang my mom's happy voice from the kitchen. Obviously, the noise I made failing to throw my bag had notified her that I was home.

"Oh? Is this little Nathan that I've been hearing all about?", came another woman's voice from the kitchen. I had never heard this voice before but I chose to ignore it, believing that food was a little bit more important than socialising with anyone else in this God-forsaken town. Finishing placing the last of my stationary into my bag, I headed towards the dining room, feeling happy and content that no more drama could happen today…

Unless mom had me one of her dreaded beef stews.

If this were the case then I could assure you that there would be drama. Forget assuring it, I could promise it you, tell you the time and even tell you the place. Each answer being, when dad gets back and realises he's got to eat food that he not only dry heaves over, but has also once thrown up in just to avoid eating it. Normally dad would sneak out and go to the local fish and chips shop whenever mom made stew, but with dad not being here due to him trying to find a new job in town, I'd have to stomach that monstrosity or starve.

As I sat down, I let out a sigh of relief at finding good old-fashioned Bangers and Mash. That meal was what my mom would cook whenever she had guests over, as if to show off her Britishness to the Americans who happened to come over and visit. How one could brag about cooking sausages or mashing up potatoes, I don't know, but my mom always found a way. The fact that I heard another woman's voice was probably the reasoning for why I was eating this meal.

"You enjoying your dinner Nathan?", my mom asked braggingly as she sauntered into the living room, followed by a plumpish woman with bright red hair. I shrugged my reply and continued to prod a blob of mash to death with my fork. She laughed at my response before pausing and staring intently in my direction. The woman behind her standing awkwardly as if unsure whether to talk or not. "Has someone hit you Nathan?", my mom asked, her voice going up a few decibels, as she rushed towards me.

"No mom", I lied. Choosing to ignore me, she grabbed my head and turned it lightly so that she could inspect the bruising on my face.

"Is there anything I can do?", asked the red-headed woman, who was still stood cluelessly, yet concerned in the middle of my dining room.

"Erm… actually yes, thank you Sheila. If you go into the kitchen, the drawer nearest the door has some sort of medi-kit pack. Can you grab that for me please?". The woman nodded and rushed into the kitchen before returning a few seconds later with a small red box.

"is this it?". My mom turned to look at the box and smiled.

"That's it. Thank you". With that, Sheila passed my mom the box, while I rolled my eyes at my mom's over-protective nature. As if on cue she retrieved a band-aid and a small bottle of anti-septic fluid.

"Who did this Nathan?", my mom asked sternly as she poured some of the fluid on the band aid. Sheila watched over my mother's shoulder, obviously intent on hearing who had hit me. I was silenced before I could speak however, by my mom who was pushing the band aid into my face. I couldn't do anything but bite my lip when she pressed down on said band aid, to stop whatever bruise or cut I had from bleeding. The sharp striking pain brought water to my eyes, each second getting progressively worse than the previous until the pain seemed to magically subside all together. "Well?".

"Just some kids at school", I mumbled arrogantly.

"In your year?", Sheila asked with genuine curiosity. I nodded my head lightly before pushing my mom's hand away from my face.

"I'll ask my Kyle about it. I'm sure he'll know". My nodded her head approvingly before she showed Sheila to the door. I didn't intend to cut mom's friend-making short, but hey, if she was going to force me to keep moving and losing all my friends, then she should struggle just as much as I do. I slouched back against the chair and sighed. Suddenly I wasn't hungry anymore, and instead I just wanted to talk to my dad. He always knew what to do, and he always had an answer for everything. He was still probably trying to find a job somewhere in town though.

"Nathan…", my mom began as she walked in. "Are you sure you don't know who hit you?". I nodded my head, yet the emotion on her face didn't change. She clearly didn't believe me, and honestly, I couldn't blame her because I was lying after all. "Nathan", she said again, this time in a blunter tone.

"What!?", I snapped back at her. She seemed to be shocked that I had spoken back to her like that, as I was never a problem child, yet I wasn't in the mood to deal with her making me feel worse than I already do.

"You can lose that attitude right now young man", my mom warned, sternly. I glared at her, as I pushed my plate further along the table so it wasn't in front of me.

"Don't you think I've lost enough", I spat back. "We move and I have no friends, and then as soon as I finally make friends we have to move again and I lose them all. Over and over and over". No longer having the strength to argue with her I sighed, and focused on my hands in my lap. "I don't want to make friends if I have to say goodbye to them again". She seemed to notice the change in my tone, and sat in the chair beside me, taking my hands in hers.

"I- I never knew you felt this way hun… Look, Dad and I only move when we have to, but if it's making you feel this way… Then maybe I can speak to your dad and we could stay here permanently, maybe". I looked up at mom, tempted to ask her if we could just move back to our old town, but I know that'd probably be taking this one step too far.

"You promise mom?", I asked insecurely. She smiled before standing up and ruffling my hair.

"Yeah I promise hun. Now, why don't you go and watch some television, whilst I go and phone your father".


	4. Reconciliation

"…and that is all that was mentioned about the flashing lights last night", the news-reported slowly trailed off as he scoured through some papers on his desk. As of current, I had slathered myself across the couch in my living room, and was lazily dangling my head off the edge of the sofa so that the entirety of my view was upside down. I don't know how long I had been there, because when you're as bored as I was, time just seems to merge into a big heap of foreverness.

Does that even make sense?

I don't know. I mean, I'm only 10, so asking myself stupid questions about time is totally pointless. Deciding to try and forget that I was having a mental conversation with myself, I lifted my arm and reached out, desperately clawing for the remote that was just a little too far away from my reach. I had previously scoured the channels various times, but now I had given up and was choosing to inspect them for the umpteenth time. I had only been in South Park for less than a day, and I was already entirely fed up of living here. Any chance to move from this horrid town would be welcomed with open arms. I know I had issues with constantly moving, but I honestly wouldn't mind moving once more to be rid of this hell. It would be nice to see some of my old friends from other places I've lived again. Sure I could stay in contact with them all on Facebook, but it just wasn't the same.

If I had to rank the places where I've lived, South Park would be at the bottom. I mean, during one day, I've been gifted a black eye by the bratty arseholes in my class, and now I had to suffer the shockingly abysmal broadcasting that this town provided. On the brighter side, there was apparently supposed to be some sort of festival next week. Also, Mom said she'd buy me something nice if I stayed on my best behaviour for the rest of the week, and if I forgave whoever hit me and tried to make friends once more. Sure I felt a bit guilty that I was being gifted stuff for what I said earlier to my mom, but honestly I think I deserve a reward for agreeing to live in this town. Hopefully the gift was a Games-Sphere or something. That would be totally awesome!

"Hello? Is anyone there?", came a spontaneous voice from the front door. I turned my head to look towards the door, only to have the letterbox shut on itself. I lifted an eyebrow, a quizzical emotion spread across my face. I got up from upside-down slouchy position and glared at the door, desperately hoping that some sort of x-ray powers would come into action.

"Was he in there?", a second voice asked from outside.

"I could hear the television". I sighed audibly before reluctantly pushing myself to my feet. After a quick stretch, I stomped towards the door and twisted the handle. With little effort, I carefully opened the door. Stood outside were two people from my class. Both had been part of the mob that had chased me around at school earlier. Instantly I felt my heart beat much faster, at the prospect of them all finding out where I lived just to harass me whilst I was away from school. Fuck no.

I know I said to my mom that I was going to try and make friends, but honestly fuck these guys. There's no way they're going to treat me like shit in my own home.

"What?", I spat, adding as much venom as I could. With this Stan Marsh cut his eyes, and accusingly pointed towards me in an irritated fashion.

"Watch your mouth kid or I'll kick your ass". This time I cut my eyes. In the most snobbish fashion I could muster up, I stepped backwards and slammed the front door shut. Muffled insults instantly followed my action. Surprisingly however, the insults were not being directed at me. Kyle, was currently arguing with his 'supposed' super best friend. I began to turn around, so that I could go back to the ever-so enjoyable highlight of television, but was cut off when a harsh thump on the door made me jump. I seriously wasn't sure whether one of them had decided to kick the front door.

"Who is at the door Nathan?", shouted my mom from upstairs, her curiosity obviously over-powering her.

"It doesn't matter mom!", I shouted back before returning to the door. With one last deep breath, I twisted the handle and opened the door. "what do you guys want?", I sighed purposely trying to act a little more tolerant the second time around.

"Look Nathan… Did you… Did you tell on me to my mom?", Kyle asked nervously, obviously trying to look at anything except for me. Stan was stood behind Kyle in a similar sort of fashion, he however, looked more aggravated than nervous.

"What?".

"My mom came home, and asked whether I knew who had hit you… Did you tell my mom on me?", he repeated. I thought about lying to him. Telling him that I had told his mom about the situation that happened would probably make him feel so scared when he came face-to-face with his mother, which would help put a smile on my face. Thinking twice however, Kyle had probably thrown the least amount of punches compared to anyone else earlier, so I guess telling him that I had told his mother about today would probably be redundant in improving my mood, as I wanted revenge on the other kids a lot more than him. Craig for example. Craig just seemed to love conflict.

"No, I haven't told anyone", I replied as I lightly traced a pattern on my front door with my finger to try and ease the awkwardness that I was now beginning to feel. Kyle just decided to survey me after he received my answer, clearly unsure on whether to trust me".

"Who is it Nathan?", came my mom's voice from upstairs again. Her tone seemed to fully contrast the tense atmosphere that was surrounding the front of her house. I turned to shout up the stairs, only to notice her walking down the steps. "Oh are these friends from school, coming to see you?", my mother asked as she smiled at the two boys.

"Erm yeah…", I answered eventually. "Mom, this is Stan and Kyle". My smiled at them both before turning to Kyle.

"Oh are you Sheila's kid?", Kyle nodded nervously. "I could tell", my mom smiled. "You're the spit of your mother, exact same features", she added as an afterthought.

"Okay mom, can I talk to these guys quick?", I quickly asked before she could embarrass anyone else any further. She seemed to sense what I was saying, and blushed before walking off back upstairs, with a quick 'It was nice meeting you boys'. "If that isn't proof that I haven't told your mom, or even my own mom for that matter, then I don't know what is", I chuckled awkwardly.

"So you didn't tell my mom?", he asked a few moments, and with this I rolled my eyes, and stepped back to close the door, but unfortunately Stan thought quickly and put his foot in the way.

"Just answer him so we can leave you alone", Stan almost ordered, clearly as fed up of being here as much as I did.

"For god sake, I didn't tell your mom!", I hissed exasperatedly, becoming very tired of the conversation at hand. "Maybe I should have though. I mean, I had seven of you team up and beat the crap out of me. I got a fricking black eye because of you arseholes… and all you care about is whether you're going to get in trouble for it". At my sudden outburst, both Kyle and Stan seemed to retreat backwards slightly, but soon came to their sense and returned to their normal positions. "But, I guess I'm used to people not really liking me and stuff… so I guess… I guess it doesn't matter anyway", I mumbled, suddenly feeling very worn out and defeated. Kyle seemed to give me a remorseful look, that sort of gave the impression that he had previously felt the same way I did currently.

"C'mon Kyle. Nathan said he hasn't told your mom anything so let's just go the park or something". Kyle looked at him and nodded softly. Stan smiled contently in reply and sauntered off down the driveway towards the road, leaving Kyle standing outside my door awkwardly. I stared at him nonchalantly, trying to make him understand that I no longer wanted to talk to him.

"Yo, I know it probably won't mean much, but I'm sorry for today dude", he croaked spontaneously, his legitimately sincere apology catching me off guard. I sighed loudly, rubbing the back of my head awkwardly.

"Yeah, it's okay Kyle. Forgive but don't forget and all that stuff", I finally decided on saying. I wasn't sure if he believed me, and honestly I couldn't blame him, because I wasn't sure whether I actually did forgive him, but I guess an apology was worth a start.

"Well, I'll see you in class tomorrow dude!", he pronounced in a lighter tone as he turned and walked towards Stan who continually been growing impatient.

"Uh, yeah. Sure, bye Kyle". I mumbled back before shutting the door. I rubbed my forehead tiredly before turning to walk back into the living room, but something in the corner of my eye caught my attention. As I could've guessed, my mom was creepily peering her from around the top of the stairs.

"Those two seem nice", she remarked with a proud grin.


	5. There's Nothing To See Here People

"Okay children. Let's talk about X Factor, and how it's a pointless show that exploits pitiful people who have no real chance at stardom". Mr Garrison. Only one teacher could talk about totally pointless shit with such enthusiasm and still not get fired, and unfortunately, he was that teacher.

If you're wondering what happened between now and yesterday when Kyle and Stan had left my house, I can tell you exactly what happened… Sleep, and that was it. The television must've got so boring that I had passed out on the sofa. Before I knew anything, it was morning and I was being shoved around the house by my mom who was desperately trying to get me to clear off and go to school. I didn't even get to see my dad yesterday, but apparently, he found a job as a part time mechanic so at least that had gone well.

The walk to the bus stop was nothing but anxiety inducing, so much so that I eventually ended up skipping the bus stop and walking to school by myself to avoid running into people from my class. For some reason, when I made it into school, there were only three other students in class. Butters, Wendy and a very anxious twitching boy called Tweek. Where everyone else was, I had no clue up until they all began rushing into class at the same time.

"Sorry I'm late Mr Garrison", shouted Stan as he rushed to his seat. Kid after kid followed him in, as if they were all playing a gargantuan game of follow the leader. Mumbled sorry's were thrown away carelessly by the students, and Mr Garrison's replies perfectly reciprocated the sense of carelessness that was currently in the room.

"Why was everyone late Bebe?", came Wendy's high-pitched voice from across the room, her eyes looking up and down at her blonde best friend.

"A number of reasons", the blonde replied as she sat down at her desk. "The school has accepted a whole array of foreign exchange students from around the world, so the hallways were a lot more full than usual. Alongside that, we were all looking at the poster advertising the county fair. There's a fancy-dress competition and rides! It looks awesome Wendy, we have to go!", she squealed in return. Wendy instantly smiled and nodded her head, clearly agreeing to partake in her friends plans. I guessed that this fair is probably the festival my mom was talking about yesterday. I truly hoped it was as awesome as everyone was making out.

"What are you smiling at ass muncher", cackled Cartman as he took his seat behind me. I turned on my seat to defend myself, but was almost instantly cut off when Kyle came to the rescue, fully glaring at Cartman as if he was trying to stare into his soul. Or in Cartman's case, the cavern in which a soul would normally exist.

"Shut your fucking mouth Cartman". I stared at Kyle, a quizzical look smeared all over my face.

"I swear to god Kyle, Serious-Leh. I will kick you square in the nuts".

"Just shut up fat ass", Stan interrupted already growing tired of the two boys arguing.

"God Dammit! I'm not fat, I'm big boned! My mom even said so!".

"Cartman, your ass is so fat that when people see you on the streets, they say, 'God Damn! That's A Big Fat Ass!".

"No they don't!", Cartman protested, his fists shaking in rage. "Go back to Endor you stupid Wookie.

"Wookies don't live on Endor".

"Wookies don't live on Endor", he mimicked in a high-pitched tone.

"Children quieten down", Mr Garrison interrupted as he began to write words on to his chalkboard. "Now children, I trust you all got your parents to agree to let us take you on the trips that we have upcoming". With this sentence, almost instantly about 6 people turned to glare at me. I lowered my head into my hands, and retreated further back into my chair. Obviously, people at this school held grudges. "Now let me make this fully clear", Mr Garrison continued, "If you fail to hand in your letter for the camp this weekend, then you will be forfeiting your place on the next school trip, that's scheduled to be at the living museum. Instead you'll be doing Social Justice Warrior work with PC Principal for the whole day. Is that understood". A wave of dreary and moaned "Yes Mr Garrison's", supplied him with his answer. In return Mr Garrison smiled and began wiping the chalk away from his blackboard.

"Good going you ginger turd", Cartman hissed at me. At this, I twisted on my seat to fully face him before Kyle could try to defend me again.

"Listen up you fat shit, this is just as much your fault as it is mine. So, I swear down, if you blame me for this once more, I will fucking kick your ass", I spat threateningly. I was no fighter. I was one of those douche people that constantly said the phrase; "I'm a lover, not a fighter". So, if Cartman agreed to fight me, there would be a very good chance that I'd lose. Fortunately, my empty threat seemed to do the job as he quietened down and stared towards the front of the class, obviously trying to act as if I wasn't even there. Feeling smug with these results, I turned back around on my seat.

-o-o-o-o-o-

"Shh. Shh. Shh. It's okay. Be quiet", came the slow croak of a balding man, as he held his dirtied finger to his mouth. He licked his lips lightly, all the while shaking erratically. A muffled response enticed his ears, as he leapt across the room. He shuffled his hands through a rusty toolbox that head left abandoned on an uneven wooden table, however one twitch proved too powerful and unintentionally caused the toolbox to spill its contents over the table. "Oh Stupid! Stupid!", he shouted at himself as he punched the table furiously. With this, gagged sobbings amplified in the room.

"Pweasem. Pweasem dun hurr me. Pweasemmm!". The man turned his head and looked at his trophy in admiratioj.

"Shh", he repeated in all seriousness. "You'll wake up mother".

"Pwease", the barely-feminine voice repeated, but at a much lower volume then previous. This caused the man to cut his eyes and bare his teeth in rage. He stormed towards the woman who he had tied up and grasped onto her hair. With one violent tug, a loud muffled scream was released followed by barely audible sobbing.

"No. No!", the man reasoned spontaneously, taking on a new persona. He went down to his knees and cradled the woman in his arms. She fully protested and battled to remove herself from her capturer's arms but to no avail. "No. Don't. Don't cry", he said systematically, as if struggling to learn a new emotion. His speech and movements were very robotic, but he, as a person, seemed so ironically innocent and socially awkward. He sobbed along with his prisoner, slowly rubbing his hand through her bushy brown hair.

-o-o-o-o-o-

"I'm totally going on the haunted castle ride you guys! The county fair is going to be so sweet", Cartman almost sang from his place in the dinner line. He impatiently pushed Kyle further forwards as if that would allow him to get food faster.

"Stop shoving fat ass!". Instead of responding Cartman chose to imagine the positives of the county fair. His smile, clearly showed that he was having a great time in imaginationland. I snorted to myself in laughter at his expression just as the dinner queue moved along so that I could be in the room where the chef handed us kids our food. The school chef was a chubby African-American man who was constantly humming a tune to himself whenever I saw him on school grounds.

"Hello there children!", he welcomed as he finished spooning a lump of gravy over Clyde's dinner.

"Hey Chef", Kyle, Stan, Eric and a boy known as Kenny replied in unison.

"How's it going?".

"Good".

"Why ba- Oh. Err…". The chef scratched his head, obviously trying to contemplate what to say. "Why good?".

"The fair is next week chef. Isn't it kewl!", Cartman exclaimed. I waited for them all to finish talking, and for Stan, Kyle, Kenny and Cartman to walk off before I gave my tray to the school chef so that he could place some food on it. Once he had given me my tray back I smiled my thanks and carried my tray to the dinner hall. I scoured the entire room for a spare seat, but after realising that I probably wasn't on everyone's best terms I decided to sit a table that currently had no people sat at it. Noting that dinner was going to drag as much as it did yesterday, I shovelled baked beans around the tray carelessly.

"Hey Fella!", sang Butters as he sat down next to me, playfully sliding his tray along the table as if pretending it had wheels. I watched curiously as he continued to move his tray around the table, making random engine noises at odd intervals. I chuckled lightly and began to form my reply.

"Howdy Butters". He faced me and smiled before turning back to his race-car fantasy. "How are you?", I continued, fully hoping that he'd take the bait and engage in a conversation. Anything to pass the time away was acceptable in my eyes. He paused his game and faced me once again, a small grin on his face.

"I'm great thanks. W-What about you?", he answered as he began to dig into his food, obviously deciding to stop pretending he was a driver in the Nascar league.

"I'm good too thanks… What's got you all happy?".

"Haven't you heard? Why, the country fair is coming to town of course!"

"Oh, I've heard about it alright", I replied as I began to eat my school meal. "Is the fair any good?"/

"I- I'm not sure".

"You're not sure?".

"Nope. But the lads said that it's amazing so I'm excited". I looked at him curiously as I took a sip from my juice box.

"Haven't you ever been to it before?"

"I was going to last year. B-But I was grounded for looking si-silly on my school photo. I did bad, I did".

"I've never been to it". With this, Butters looked at me with a knowing expression on his face, that did nothing but make me feel slightly paranoid. "What?".

"Of course you' haven't been to it silly. Y-You only moved here a couple of days ago", he chuckled as he gulped down a spoonful of something that resembled tomato soup. I rolled my eyes jokingly at his humour before replying.

"Real clever Butters. I mean, I've never been to any form of festival".

"W-Well you can come with me if you want? My mom said she'll take me if she's not busy, so I can just ask her if you can come". He offered through sips of his drink. I

"Are- Are you sure your mom wouldn't mind Butters?". I asked. Ideally I'd like to go to the festival with a friend, rather than go on my own. My parents would probably be working during the festival, and if Butters was going to offer me an invitation to go with him and his mother, then I wasn't going to turn it down.

"Of course I am. M-My mom wouldn't mind much".

"Well. If it's okay with your mom then yes. Yes please". He smiled at my response and nodded before continuing with another topic.

-o-o-o-o-o-

"Move along people, nothing to see here!", paraded a police officer as he tried to prevent paparazzi and news-reporters from getting film footage of the latest thing deemed 'news worthy',

"Officer Barbrady! Over here!", shouted a red-headed police officer from behind some bushes.

"What is it Yates?", he asked as he made his way over to the Sergeant.

"It's struck again", the sergeant replied as he pointed towards a discarded corpse. Barbrady instantly held a tissue over his nose when he noticed the body of Veronica Crabtree, the elementary school's bus driver. Her face was frozen in an extremely unpleasant and panic-stricken position. Her eyes completely glazed over.

"Who would do something like this?".

"Simple Barbrady".

"Is it?". The sergeant nodded as he dragged the officer a little closer to the corpse.

"If you take a good luck, you'll notice that the left hand of this ancillary character had been removed". Barbrady simply stared at Yates, willing him to continue on with his point. "No person would ever do something like this. This was clearly the work of the alien-beast that we've all been hearing about". Barbrady looked at him in total disbelief.

"What evidence do you have for this?".

"Plenty. We even have an eye witness to the account".

"You do?".

"yes. He'll be with us shortly". No more than two minutes passed before a black limousine pulled up just outside the crime scene. The door swung open, revealing a snobbish looking man. He twisted his legs around and pounced out of the vehicle before strutting towards Barbrady and Yates.

"Here he is Barbrady. Meet our eye witness. Al Gore".


	6. The Enemy Of My Enemy

"Okay, let's go over this again", Yates huffed as he scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "A… A Man… BearPig?". Al Gore simply nodded with a small smile playing on his lips. "A ManBearPig?", Yates repeated as if to emphasise how much he didn't believe in this creature. Yates had been incredibly sure that he had found an eye witness, who had actually seen this alien beast that seemed to be the entire talk of the town. So much so, that he had bought the man back to the police department so that they could discuss what he sat. It turned out that Al Gore had seen nothing, but was super 'serial' that he knew that the creature in the forest was some sort of animalistic amalgamation.

"Exactly".

"What on Earth is a ManBearPig?". With this, Al Gore gasped dramatically, obviously shocked that the Sergeant had no idea what a ManBearPig was, as if it was a sin to have not heard of this creature.

"It's half man", he paused, as if to try and add emphasis to what he was saying. "Half bear". Again, another unneeded pause. "and half pig". Yates waited patiently for Al Gore to continue. Realising that he had nothing else to say, Yates pushed himself out of his chair and walked towards his office door. He hesitantly grabbed onto the handle and opened the door.

"Thanks for your help. You can leave now".

"You think I'm crazy, don't you?". Yates ignored his question, but the look on his face gave Al Gore his answer. He scrunched his eyebrows together and snarled. "I'll prove it! I'll go into the forest and find him myself! I'm being super serial". Yates rolled his eyes while pointing towards the door with his one hand, clearly suggesting that Al Gore removed himself from his office.

-o-o-o-o-o-

"C'mon Butters!", I whined as I tugged on his arm. "We're going to be late to class". At dinner, me and Butters had talked continuously, and then played some role-playing game where he took the roll of some chaotic professor. He suggested I be a superhero, like a fuzzy blonde-haired boy called Tweek, who also happened to come over and ask to play. Deciding that superheroes are overplayed, I settled on being a spy, which caught the interest of a red-haired girl who I only knew as 'Red'. She mentioned something about always wanting to be a 'Charlie's Angel', whatever that meant, and from then she had started playing as my spy associate.

Honestly, I had no clue what the rules were for the game, but we all seemed to just get into the spirit of the game and had a laugh, Red more so than anyone else. Speaking of Red, she constantly came up with these brilliant ideas for the game which showed that she was just as smart as she was prett- I mean, never mind that's not important. Something that was important however was that she smelt a bit like berries, and I don't know why that's important actually… What is wrong with me today?

Tweek Tweak was a very strange character in my opinion, in reality, and within the fantasy game we were all playing. He had chosen to take the role of 'Wonder Tweek', which instantly made me think of he would be a superhero with 'Wonder Woman-esque' abilities, but instead he was more like Storm from the X-Men, with weather changing abilities. That wouldn't sound too strange, but his mannerisms, constant panicking and twitching made it very hard to stay immersed in the game. He also seemed to have a problem communicating with people properly, which Butters stated was due to his ADHD and Anxiety problems. He also stated that Tweek often got picked on because of this ailments, which instantly made me like the nervous boy more. If you took away the shaking and paranoid rambling, you were left with a funny and friendly boy who smelt an awful lot like coffee. How kids could bully someone for disorders that they couldn't control really annoyed me, but what was I meant to do about it? I was a wuss.

"O-Okay Nathan", Butters chuckled, bringing me back to reality. I smiled as he began to rush to the classroom. Rushing so much in fact, that he broke free from my grip and ran straight towards the classroom, leaving me to walk towards the class on my own, all the while laughing to himself playfully.

"Ass!", I jokingly shouted after him, as he ditched me to run to class. I chuckled to myself lightly as I rubbed snow from my jacket. I probably sound stupid, but I truly didn't realise that this place would have so much snow. I mean, it should've been obvious, because dad had said it was high in the mountains, but still, this was far too much snow than what I was anticipating. Dusting the snow off my hands, I slowly continued my walk to the classroom, making sure to take in as much of the air around me before I was forced to spend time in the captivity of the class room. I was really enj-

"Hey give that back!", I shouted in a panic, as I swung around, desperately grasping on to my hat which had just been ripped from my head. On the opposite side of me stood Craig Tucker, smiling sardonically with his hand clamped around my beanie hat, desperately holding it with all his might. I smiled back sarcastically, before pulling on my hat to try and release it from his hands. It didn't budge.

"What's your problem!?", I asked in an aggravated tone. He looked at me blankly as if it was obvious what his problem was. I mean… I guess it was obvious. I was his problem. Me and my big mouth that had got us sentence to a weekend at some stupid club in the forest. I sighed in annoyance. "What do you want Craig".

"Your hat"", he stated. He neither said it in a friendly or a threatening tone. He just said it. No emotion behind his nasally voice.

"Well you can't have it", I replied matter-of-factly as I tugged on it a second time. This time I felt my hat slide slightly out of his hand, but unfortunately he managed to tighten his grip just before I could manage to retrieve it. He smirked at his triumph, teeth showing in a barely noticeable grin. I rolled my eyes at this and just decided that I'd let him win to lessen the chance of him beating the crap out of me again.

"Fine", I said as I let go of my hat and turned to make my way towards the school. The initial look on his face was one of shock, but he masked it almost instantly, standing there awkwardly in the playground. I left him standing there, his hand clenched onto an item of clothing I'd probably never see again, but this was still a success. I'd managed to find a way out of getting my ass kicked. Who ever said brawn beats brains needed a kick in the teeth.

-o-o-o-o-o-

"Well hello how can I help you?".

"I need a room at this establishment for this weekend if that's okay".

"This weekend? Okay, let me check… I'm sorry sir, but we have a class from South Park elementary coming in this weekend, meaning that no rooms will be available until after they've left on Sunday evening".

"What!? But I need a room! It's very important you get me a room".

"Why is it important mister…".

"Mister Gore, and that's classified but I need to use a room here. I'm super serial".

"Okay Mister Gore, I'll see if we can fir you into a room".

"Excellent".

-o-o-o-o-o-

I slowly entered the class room and walked towards my desk. Everyone else had already found their seats, (excluding Craig of course). Red smiled at my arrival, to which I replied with a half-hearted grin. I swung my bag under my desk and slumped backwards into my seat. Luckily Mr Garrison hadn't noticed me walking in late, as he was too busy sketching something onto the chalkboard.

"W-What's up?", Butters asked, obviously picking up on my lowered demeanour. I shook my head lightly letting him know that I wasn't going to explain anytime soon, but I threw a compromising smile his way. I surveyed the room, mostly to find something different to focus on so that I could get my mind off of how mad my mom was going to be when I told her I had lost my hat somewhere. It was better not to tell her the truth… right?

"What are you looking at buttfucker!?", Cartman spat as he glared at me. I shook my head lightly, realising that I must've been staring at him when my mind wandered to my mom losing her shit.

"Sorry Eric". He went to say some remark, but paused, his eyebrows lifted as if showing that he was surprised by something, but then they returned to their natural place as if he were trying to mask his previous surprise. He must've been stunned into silence by the fact that I hadn't insulted him back or something.

"You best be Frenchie".

Or not. To his surprise I chuckled lightly, as for some reason I found the situation itself rather funny.

"Are you laughing at me old chap?", Pip whispered when he turned his head from the seat next to me. This was the first time the English boy had willingly looked at me since the swearing fiasco yesterday. He had, had the opportunity to talk to me for the entirety of the afternoon yesterday, and the entirety of this morning, but he had entirely blanked me up until this point. I stared at him curiously, as he awaited my reply.

"No".

"Are you sure my good fellow? I could've swore I heard you laugh when Cartman said Fre-".

"God sake, Shut up Pip!". As much as I would've loved to have been the one who told Pip to shut up, it was in fact Cartman who had commanded it.

"Righto", he whispered sadly, as he stared down at his desk. Cartman went to say something else, but then decided against it after his eyes caught Craig who had finally decided to walk into the classroom. Once Craig had sat down at his desk, Cartman turned on his seat to position himself better for the upcoming conversation.

"Where have you been?", the fat boy questioned as he rested his head on his hand. All he received in reply was Craig's middle finger. Of course, Cartman did not appreciate this in the slightest. "I was being nice you black asshole!", he spat. I scrunched my nose up at his choice of insult, but continued to watch the upcoming confrontation with glee.

Glee you ask?

Well it's not every day that the two people you hate most, begin to verbally attack each other right in front of your face. To me… this was my equivalent of Disney Land or something.

"I never asked you to be nice", Craig nonchalantly responded as he scavenged through his bag to find his school book. Cartman seemed unhappy with this response and continued to glare.

"Someone's got sand up their vagina huh?", Cartman laughed. The insult was directed at Craig, but Cartman was looking at me, expecting me to back him up and agree or at least laugh. As if to force me to pick an ultimatum, Craig looked to me, a calculating look on his face.

Oh shit. Were they waiting for me to pick a side? Shit, I think they were.

I scratched the back of my head as the tension thickened around me. I chuckled nervously to myself, hoping that they'd both give up and just go back to arguing amongst themselves for my entertainment.

"Ayy! I said someone's got sand up their vagina!", Cartman repeated with a more aggressive tone. I faked a laugh, but both Cartman and Craig could tell that it wasn't genuine. I could tell because an almost non-existent smirk hit Craig's lips, whilst Cartman's eyes rolled dramatically. All the while, I could feel my face heat up and turn crimson. Oh the joys of being a nervous red-head. Almost anything could get this reaction out of me. I forced a nervous smile at the both of them, before turning back around in my seat to avoid any more mortifying embarrassment.

-o-o-o-o-o-

"So this is your room Mr Gore. We here at the Stark Firest Appreciation Travel Camp & Lodge would like to wish you the best on your 'secret' mission, and we hope that the room is to your liking", came the drawl of a very bored and disinterest staff member. His voiced showed the negative and depressed mood he was currently encased in.

"It's okay I guess. Especially considering how small this place is…", Al Gore said, mainly to himself. The staff attendant held his hand out, rudely and wordlessly asking for a tip from the ecstatic Al Gore. He didn't receive any money however, instead he received a high five. The look of disgust on his face went unnoticed by Al Gore who was still surveying the miniscule room. "How come there is four beds?".

The attendant sighed loudly, trying to get across the point that he was in no mood to answer any questions. The message however did not make its way to AL Gore, who was instead smiling happily while waiting patiently for an answer.

"Michelle told me that she had told you all of this already?".

"Who is Michelle?".

"The woman you spoke to on the phone earlier".

"Oh yes… continue". The attendant held his nose in aggravation.

"Look. A school class are coming this weekend, and now because of you they have one less room". Al Gore smiled, feeling no remorse or regret for the fact that he made a school lose a room they had probably already paid for.

"They'll thank me when I catch the elusive ManBearPig". This was Al's justification clearly.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm sure they will", the attendant mocked as he crept out of the room into the hallway so that he could almost run towards the reception. "Michelle! I thought you said we weren't taking in wack-jobs any more".

-o-o-o-o-o-

"You're a dirty ass rammer".

"I'm interested in why you think that".

"I don't think. I know… I mean, even the new Asian girls know you're an ass rammer… Hey! Don't flip me off you son of a bitch".

"Well then don't call me an ass rammer fat ass".

"I'm not fat, I'm big boned God Dammit!".

Yes. This was fun. This was enjoyable. This was improving my day greatly. Well. It was already a good day seeing as I had become friends with Tweek and Red who I shou- Now is not the time for this Nathan. You're meant to be basking in the amazing feeling that you're feeling. Basically, this was a great day. I can't think of how this day could possibly get any better. I mean, how contrasting is this day compared to yesterday? Yesterday was probably one of the worst days of my life, but today… today was amazing. I couldn't think of a better way to end off my school day, than hearing the two kids I hate most argue amongst themselves. This time I had made sure to continue staring towards the front of the class so that I couldn't be involved with the argument again.

"Well at least my mom isn't on the cover of crack-whore magazine".

"Er-Wha?".

"You heard me fat ass".

"My mom is not on the cover of crack-whore magazine so shut your God Damn Hippie Mouth!".

"Make me".

"I'll kick your ass Craig".

"I'd like to see you try".

"If you don't shut your mouth, you're going to see me try".

"Key word being try".

"Key word being try", Cartman mimicked.

"Nice. Real mature". By now, I was holding my hand over my mouth to stop myself from laughing. Craig hadn't really been offended at all during their argument. He seemed to remain calm and collected no matter what Cartman threw his way, Meanwhile, Cartman was easily wound up by the things Craig would say… Even though the things that Craig said weren't really offensive, they were just sarcastic mocking's that showed how little he truly cared for the argument. I quickly tightened the grip on my mouth when I accidentally let out a snort of a laugh. Almost instantly, Cartman kicked my chair causing it to move forward a bit. I turned around on my seat, still giggling uncontrollably.

"Stop laughing at me, you no soul day walker", Cartman spat venomously. I raised my hands in fake surrender, a cheeky smile betraying my façade.

"Get that sand out of your vagina fat ass", Craig commented, purposely using Cartman's own insult against him. His 4comment caused Cartman to blush and glare at him evilly once more which only caused me to snicker again.

"Both of you- Respect my authoritah!", he ordered in all seriousness, his voice raising in volume slightly. I held my mouth once more to try and control my laughter, but as expected I quickly failed to keep it contained.

"This is all your fault Craig, you nappy baby prick", Cartman pointed accusingly towards Craig, whilst gesturing towards my uncontrollable snickering.

"Nappy baby?", Craig asked himself sarcastically, "If you're using insults like that, then I'm pretty sure you don't need help at becoming a laughing stock". The look of absolute hated and anger spread on Cartman's face, lingered for about five seconds before his face returned to normal. No. To a sly and smug smirk. What had he got planned?

"I'm a laughing stock Craig, hmm?". Craig made no effort to reply, he just continued to stare at Eric, obviously wondering the same thing I was. "You're the one with a mother whose nasty hairy bits were exposed online". Craig shrugged at this, but his face had become noticeably stonier. "Not only that, but alongside the faggy drawings everyone is drawing of you, you're also super faggy about your stupid guinea pig. If that's not something to laugh about, I'm not sure what is".

Hurt. A hint of it flickered across Craig's face, so fast that you probably would've missed it if you had blinked at the wrong time. Again, Craig didn't reply verbally, but if his hand clenched onto the side of his desk was anything to go by, it was fairly evident that Cartman's comment had hit a sore spot with the taller boy. "Stripe, was it? You know what I'd like to do with Stripe, Craig?". I looked from Cartman to Craig, noticing the latter boy's knuckles turning white.

"Eric. Maybe… Maybe you should just call it quits", I suggested quickly. I had enjoyed this little scene, but realising that something was physically causing Craig to shake with rage made me feel terribly guilty and terribly worried. More for Cartman than myself.

"Yes", Craig mumble through clenched teeth. "Maybe you should". Cartman ignore Craig's semi-threat, choosing to intimidate him further.

"I'll tell you what I'd like to do with Stripe Craig. Nathan, listen up and tell me whether you think it's a good idea".

"No. No Eric, I- I'm staying out of this. Just- Just drop it".

"C'mon Nathan, don't be such a pussy shit. What's this fag going to do about it". Obviously Cartman had forgot that Craig had been the leader of the group that had beaten me up no more than 24 hours ago.

"Eric. Seriously. I don't want no part in this". By now Craig himself was shaking lightly. His jittering very much resembling Tweek's from earlier today. I could totally see where this was going, and I wanted to be nowhere near when shit hit the fan. Eric positioned himself closer to Craig's table, his head inches away from Craig's. I looked at Craig, searching for a signal of when he was going to snap. He noticed my stare and looked back at me, his eyes glaring into me as if I was the scum of the Earth. None the less, I continued looking at him, and mouthed the words 'Calm Down' in the friendliest way I could muster. Again, he ignored me and instead chose to continue glaring right through me. I backed up on my seat, fully fearing that he was going to punch me into a dust. "Come on Eric, just let it go".

"Oh come on Nathan. What could I say about that stupid Guinea Pig that would upset Craig here that much. I mean, I bet his shoves that poor bastard up his ass and everythin-". Before anyone could react, a loud smacking sound resonated loudly around the classroom when Craig's fist connected with Cartman's face.


End file.
